


and it's warm and real and bright

by basha



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, Movie Night, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, times three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basha/pseuds/basha
Summary: One fateful movie night, 3 pairs of boys reflect on (and maybe even act on) their feelings for each other. Also, Cameron is there. (Modern University AU)
Relationships: Charlie Dalton & Neil Perry, Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Steven Meeks/Gerard Pitts, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 7
Kudos: 85





	and it's warm and real and bright

**Author's Note:**

> In this 'verse, only Neil, Charlie, and Cameron went to boarding school together. Meeks and Pitts knew each other from a space camp when they were kids. The two groups befriended each other, and Knox, in their first year at Welton College. Todd is a relatively new addition to the group, who live together and still call themselves the Dead Poets Society for...reasons. 
> 
> I don't know why, but I have this belief that Meeks really can't cook, and it drives him crazy, because it's just chemistry! Pitts is the only one who can eat anything he makes. 
> 
> Title from "I See The Light" from Tangled.

1\. Cameron 

They hadn’t even started the movie yet--mostly because they hadn’t picked a movie yet--and Richard was already ready to strangle all of his housemates. 

In retrospect, agreeing to movie night was a terrible idea. Leaving the house on a solo snack run, thus abandoning his six idiots to make the decision of what movie to watch on their own, was a worse idea. And suggesting that he be the one to actually make the decision once he arrived home was the worst idea of them all. 

His friends were fucking annoying when they wanted things their way. 

The situation was this: Neil, Charlie, and Pitts, of course, each had a movie they were insistent upon watching. The other three had decided their votes in an incredibly predictable manner: Knox loudly voicing his preference for Charlie’s movie, while Meeks made incredibly logical arguments for Pitts’ choice (that no one but Pitts was listening to). Todd didn’t even have to say anything, everyone knew he and Neil were on the same side.

And the thing was, Richard knew that each and every one of their professed opinions was somewhere on a spectrum from stupid to really, really stupid. Charlie had picked the most gruesome, gorey horror movie that had come out in the last year and was suggesting they watch it “as a comedy.” Knox was agreeing with him, even though the last time they’d all watched a horror movie he’d basically peed his pants, just for the way Charlie’d slung his arm around Knox’s shoulders and said “Attaboy, Knoxious!” Neil actually would have loved Charlie’s choice, but he was crusading for some Disney musical nonsense, likely because Todd’s eyebrow had twitched slightly or something when Charlie had mentioned that his movie might be scary. And Todd was just standing by, not saying a word, pleased as punch to have Neil Perry as his very own knight in shining armour. Perhaps worst of all, Meeks and Pitts wanted to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey, for the 13th time.

Richard, standing in front of a panel of his friends like a judge, buried his face in his hands as they all shouted at him. Meeks was still trying to be reasonable, while Charlie had devolved into a list of increasingly creative threats. 

“Give Cameron a second,” Todd eventually cut into the rabble. Everyone complied instantly. “Richard, what do you want to watch?” Richard felt a flush of gratitude mixed with a slurry of jealousy and guilt. Todd was the last one to move into the house and join the Dead Poets, and Cameron hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming. He was no Meeks or Pitts, but he was alright at math, and he knew that having an odd number of people in the house would mean that someone would have to be the 7th wheel. And he knew well enough that it would be him, so he’d campaigned pretty enthusiastically to keep the house at 6 inhabitants. He’d been outvoted, thank goodness, and Todd had moved in and proved to be a perfect addition to the group. 

It had been months, but Richard was still shocked at every act of kindness or friendship from Todd. Maybe the kid genuinely didn’t hold a grudge. Or maybe he had, once, and Richard had already been forgiven. Either way, he wasn’t sure he deserved the friendship of Todd Anderson. 

“Uh--” Richard was fond of providing his opinion on things, but he wasn’t used to being asked for it. With six pairs of eyes trained on him, he suddenly felt awkward and indecisive. 

“Cameron I swear to Keating, if you don’t pick my movie I will put spiders in your bed--” Charlie threatened. Cameron rolled his eyes and ruled out Charlie’s movie instantly. Which only meant there was only one movie still on the table...

“Let’s watch  _ Tangled _ ,” he decided. “It’ll be over the quickest.” His friends reacted exactly as he knew they would: Charlie, calling him a traitor and generally being a nuisance, Knox grumbling as if he was pissed despite the relief painting his face, pulling up the movie; Meeks and Pitts accepting their defeat gracefully and shifting their attention to critiquing Cameron’s snack haul; Neil smiling smugly, as if he’d done anything but suggest a movie and be a lovesick idiot. 

And Todd, who shot Cameron a grateful little smile and asked if he wanted a beer from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, sure,” Cameron said, feeling just a little more worthy of Todd’s friendship, and at least a little bit like an integral part of the group. 

2\. Charlie 

“Cameron’s such an asshole,” Charlie murmured, trying to get a rise out of Knox, whose eyes were glued to the screen as Rapunzel twirled around her tower and bemoaned her boring life. Knox mumbled some sort of acknowledgement, but he wasn’t really paying attention to Charlie, which made Charlie want to do something crazy.

Charlie’s love for attention was well known and well documented, but his increasingly desperate need for Knox’s attention was new, and starting to get dangerous. It made Charlie feel like he was 14 again, stupidly in love with his best friend; trying his hardest to be everything to the boy who was everything to him.

It hadn’t worked out with him and Neil romantically, which was fine for so many reasons. Neil had been far too much of a mess back then to be a good boyfriend, and if they’d ever really tried, they would have crashed and burned and lost each other, and Charlie would have been miserable. He knew, with the benefit of hindsight, that they were better off as platonic soulmates and best friends. Neil’s heart was destined for Todd, and Charlie’s heart...well, it had bounced around a few times, and now it belonged to one Knox Overstreet, whether Knox knew it or not. 

Probably not, Charlie figured, watching the way Knox’s face lit up as Flynn Rider finally climbed up into Rapunzel’s tower and she nailed him with her frying pan. Everyone knew Knox was a hopeless romantic; a lover of rom-coms, pretty girls, and happy endings. He wanted life to be a fairytale, and he wanted to be Prince Charming. He probably saw himself as a Flynn Rider, just waiting for a pretty girl he could sweep off her feet. (Preferably one that wasn’t a lesbian. The whole Chris thing had been such a disaster, it was a miracle she and Ginny were still talking to them.) Knox probably didn’t even see Charlie as an option. 

Charlie hated the way that made him feel, hated how Knox could shake his usually unshakable self esteem without even doing anything. He was Charlie fucking Dalton, but Knox made him feel like Rapunzel’s weird little lizard friend/pet/thing. 

Knox nudged him, and Charlie broke out of his thought spiral to find that they’d already gotten to the part in the tavern with the “I Have A Dream” song. 

“What?” Charlie mumbled. 

“I call the Rapunzel lines,” Knox whispered back. “You sing Eugene’s.” (Eugene? Oh, yeah, that was Flynn’s real name, right?) “Okay?” 

“Okay,” Charlie responded absentmindedly. He couldn’t help smiling as Knox burst into song, fantastically on cue and almost sort-of on key. 

“I have a dream! I have a dream!” Knox jumped to his feet on the couch to sing. Cameron started griping about shoes on the couch, but the other Poets just sang along with him, filling in for the thugs’ lines and even occasionally getting the words right. Knox put his hand out, waiting for Charlie to take it. So Charlie did, interlocking his fingers with Knox’s incredibly warm ones and letting himself be pulled to his feet, singing Eugene’s lines as loudly as he could. Knox laughed, jumping on the couch and bumping his shoulder warmly and solidly against Charlie’s. 

When the song was over, Knox sat down again, dragging Charlie with him. Even once they were firmly back among the pillows and blankets, Knox didn’t let go of his hand. If anything, he gripped it tighter, watching the chase scene with far more real anxiety than the situation warranted. 

Charlie didn’t let go either. He thought about the roles Knox had chosen for them to sing. Charlie as Eugene, cocky and charming and funny, with hidden vulnerability; Knox as Rapunzel, sweet and optimistic and right on the verge of love with someone unexpected. 

He squeezed Knox’s hand instinctively and smiled when Knox squeezed back. 

Maybe tonight Knox would see the light. Just maybe. 

3\. Pitts

Pitts couldn’t tell if he was already a little bit tipsy or if there really was something in the air, creating soft pink cocoons of sweetness around the house’s soon-to-be-couples and making Meeks look even more gorgeous than usual. Maybe it was a little bit of both, he hypothesized, taking another sip of his beer. Meeks started singing along to the movie again, quietly this time, and remarkably melodious, and Pitts found himself unable to think of anything but Meeks. 

Meeks, his best friend. His other half. Meeks, whose head tucked perfectly under Pitts’ chin when they hugged, who made Pitts never want to let go. Meeks, who had clearly noticed him staring and was giving him a funny look. 

“What?” he whispered. 

“Do you remember when we saw this for the first time?” Pitts asked, as quietly as possible, trying not to annoy Cameron, who hated it when people talked during movies. Meeks’ brow furrowed slightly, the same way it did when he was working on a physics problem or trying to do anything in the kitchen. 

“At camp?” 

“Yeah.” They had shown movies every Saturday night at the space camp where Meeks and Pitts had first met. Pitts had particularly fond memories of the night they had shown Tangled. They’d been a little too old for it even back then, and their other friends hadn’t wanted to go, so it had just been the two of them. Pitts doesn’t remember which one of them had actually wanted to see the movie and which had just tagged along, but it didn’t matter: at camp, they were PittsandMeeks, a double act, a single entity. Where one went, the other followed. 

“I didn’t see it for the first time at camp,” Meeks said. “I went because you wanted to go.” Pitts couldn’t help but smile that Meeks knew the answer to the question he’d just been asking himself; what one forgot, the other remembered.

“Where’d you see it for the first time, then?” Meeks gave Pitts a knowing look, like he knew exactly why Pitts was asking. 

Meeks always called him his best and oldest friend, and it  _ was _ true that Pitts had known Meeks far longer than either of them had known any of the other Poets. But they’d been summer camp friends, not high school friends, and even now, in their third year living together in college, there were things about Meeks that Pitts didn’t know; and something about that didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to know everything, every important and unimportant moment that had shaped his favorite person. He was covetous that way, eager for any and every tidbit of information that Meeks was willing to give him. And Meeks was always ready to oblige him. 

“My middle school friends and I actually went to see this in the theatre,” Meeks answered. His hand had, at some point, come to rest on top of Pitt’s loose hold on his beer bottle, and one of his fingers dipped into Pitts’ shirt sleeve, tracing a line on the inside of his wrist distractingly. “One of my moms drove us. Hailey was there.” 

Hailey, of course, was Meeks’ middle school girlfriend and his first kiss. Pitts remembered Meeks getting letters from her at camp and writing longer letters back. They’d broken up when Meeks came out, but they’d stayed friends through high school. She had been Meeks’ date to junior prom, and Pitts knew Meeks saw her every time he went home for break. He wasn’t jealous of her, not really, except for in all the ways that he was. His jealousy was one of his worst qualities. 

Meeks didn’t seem to mind too much, though, based on the way he smirked at Pitts and added: “All she wanted to do was hold my hand and talk through the whole movie. Sound familiar?” It was the just-this-side-of-flirty, showing-your-cards kind of thing they were always saying to each other, but it still thrilled Pitts. He flushed red and shifted his bottle into his other hand, grabbing Meeks hand more firmly in his. 

“Okay, getting the hint, I’ll shut up,” he bantered back, trying to regain some control over the conversation. He raised his beer to his lips, hoping it was still cold enough to snap him back into reality a little bit. 

“I never want you to shut up,” Meeks whispered, just a little too seriously. It was a wonderful, romantic moment; or at least it would have been if Pitts wasn’t mid sip when he’d said it. As it was, the moment was shattered as Pitts choked on his beer and Meeks had to pound him on the back to help him to breathe again. 

“You two okay over there?” Charlie asked, smirking suggestively. 

“We’re good,” Pitts gasped. “Watch the movie.” The other Poets, including Meeks, followed his instructions, focusing back on the screen, where Rapunzel and her fake mom were having an intense confrontation. Pitts, on the other hand, found himself watching his friends more than the movie: Neil and Todd, sharing a blanket on the floor, Richard, asleep in the easy chair, Knox and Charlie, holding hands, clearly another step forward on their way to figuring this shit out. And Meeks, whose hand was warm in Pitts’ own. 

Having them all together like this, where he knew they were happy and safe and warm, made him feel good. Relaxed. He liked looking after his friends, and he liked it even more when he knew he didn’t have to. When he could just be with them, and be in love, and trust that everything would work out as it should, in its own time. 

As usual, his thoughts returned to Meeks. He’d been waiting for Meeks for years, almost for a lifetime. He’d waited through too short summers, where they’d shared a bunk, and too long school years when they hadn’t talked at all; through freshman and sophomore year of college, rooming together, through almost a year of living in the same house, separated each night by a single wall. He could wait longer.

If he had to, for Meeks, he’d wait forever. 

4\. Neil 

When Neil looked over at the end of the movie, Todd was trying to subtly wipe tears from his eyes. Neil, who had been pressed up as close to Todd as possible without actually being on his lap (though how wonderful would that be?) hadn’t noticed when he started crying. He tried to twist away enough to make eye contact, trying to figure out what was wrong, which Todd took as some sort of signal to create as much distance between himself and Neil as possible, jumping to his feet and busying himself collecting discarded beer bottles, cups, and snack food wrappers. 

Neil berated himself for his rookie mistake. After all this time, he knew better than anyone that Todd was like a frightened puppy, or a woodland creature of some sort: he had to be handled with caution. Neil could get close, but only if he stayed (literally and metaphorically) smooth and steady, projecting safety. No sudden movements. He knew Todd was like this, and he even (at least to some extent) knew  _ why  _ Todd was like this.

Which Neil understood, of course, and accepted, even when it made his (insanely large) crush on Todd seem utterly hopeless. Everyone knew how he and Todd felt about each other, probably even Todd himself. But Neil also knew that by moving too fast (even at a pace that anyone else might consider glacially slow), he’d scare Todd away. 

Which was, actually, totally okay. He liked being Todd’s friend, his roommate. He liked the thrill he got every time his hand brushed Todd’s, the sleepy morning smiles, the confidence in their bond that Todd clearly displayed every time he shyly presented Neil with another one of his brilliant poems. He liked watching Todd slowly come out of his shell and blossom in the company of the other Poets. He liked Todd, simple as that. 

He knew they’d figure it out, eventually. And in the meantime, he was content to delight in the heady way they were slowly pulled into each other's orbit, like a star just waiting to be born. 

He wondered idly, just as he had a million times before, if Keating had known just how much they’d come to mean to each other that time he’d introduced them and “accidentally” left them alone in his office for an hour. 

“I want a milkshake,” Charlie announced loudly, much closer to Neil’s ear than expected. Neil jumped, then shoved Charlie away as he started to cackle. 

“So make yourself a milkshake, Slick,” he observed, standing up and looking around for Todd. 

“Todd went upstairs,” Charlie offered instantly, before switching back to his sudden desire for a milkshake. “And I can’t, cause we’re out of milk. Knox!” 

“Yes?” Knox was still on the couch, on his phone. (He was probably texting Chris. They talked an awful lot for two people who’d almost dated and then never had.) 

“I want a milkshake!” Knox sighed the gentle sigh of a long suffering Charlie Dalton enabler (Neil knew the feeling) and tucked his phone into his pocket, getting to his feet. 

“Okay, Dalton. Let’s go to McDonalds.” Charlie pumped his fist. “Gimme a second, though, I gotta find my Welton sweatshirt. It’s cold as shit outside.” Knox turned and walked upstairs. Pitts stretched his ridiculously long limbs up towards the ceiling and yawned, and Meeks rubbed at his eyes. 

“Well, we’re going to bed,” Meeks said. “Night, guys.” Charlie and Neil bid Meeks and Pitts goodnight, and suddenly they were the only two left in the living room, save for Cameron, who was fast asleep. The credits hadn’t even ended.

“Are we gonna talk about how Meeks and Pitts are speaking in the first person plural?” Charlie asked, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “I don’t think they’ve even fucked yet, and they’re already acting like an old married couple.” 

“They are an old married couple,” Neil agreed, laughing a little. Leave it to Charlie to brighten the mood. “They’ll figure their shit out eventually.” 

“I know,” Charlie said, unusually serious. “And so will you and Todd.” It was the same thing Neil had been thinking only moments before, but suddenly, hearing it come out of Charlie’s mouth, he wasn’t so sure. 

“What if we don’t?” He murmured, confessing his greatest fear to Charlie in the evening gloom like he was fifteen and fantastically depressed all over again. Charlie had been the only one he could talk to back then, and he was the only one Neil could talk to about this (except maybe Todd, who was disqualified for obvious reasons). Just like back when they were teenagers, Charlie seemed to know what to do. He pulled Neil into a hug, squeezing him tight for good measure. 

“You will,” he said, speaking quietly but confidently into Neil’s ear. “You are Neil goddamn Perry. Todd loves you, and he likes you. You just need to stop treating him like he’s something fragile.” 

“But he kind of is, Char,” Neil sniffled. “He’s--” 

“He’s grown a lot since you first met him,” Charlie cut him off. “I know you want to look after him--it’s one of the most wonderful things about you--but at some point you’re just getting in your own way.” 

“So, what, you think I should just...what? Kiss him? Ask him out?” 

“Tell him how you feel,” Charlie insisted, finally pulling away to look Neil firmly in the eyes. “Just be honest.” 

“Right.” Neil swallowed and took a step back. He needed to shift the spotlight off of himself for a moment. Luckily, Charlie was an easy target. “And when are you gonna follow your own advice and tell Knox how you feel?” Charlie, because he was Charlie, didn’t skip a beat. 

“Maybe I’ll do it tonight,” Charlie proposed. “Let’s do it together. Just two bros confessing to their love to their other bros.” Neil couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“Maybe.” He rubbed at his eyes, feeling a sudden but strong need to go upstairs and see Todd. That’s what he needed: he’d see Todd’s face, and he’d know if tonight was the night. But he didn’t want to abandon Charlie in the living room with a sleeping Cameron (especially considering that Charlie would definitely take the opportunity to draw on Cameron’s face, and that would be a whole thing), which meant he’d have to wait for Knox. “I wonder what’s taking Knox so long.” 

“He’s looking for his Welton sweatshirt,” Charlie reminded him. 

“Okay?” 

“The problem is, he’s not going to find it.”

“Why not?” Neil asked, before noticing that the Welton sweatshirt Charlie was wearing was just a little too big for him. “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” Charlie’s smug smile was enough of an answer. 

“I couldn’t find mine, so I took yours,” Knox announced as he walked back into the living room. Charlie’s eyes grew big and lovestruck at the sight of Knox in his clothing, and Neil couldn’t help but to laugh. Idiots in love, he thought. They deserved each other. “Hey Neil. You coming to get milkshakes?” 

“No, you two have fun,” Neil said, watching in amusement as Charlie composed himself. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

He felt a strange sort of levity as he left Charlie and Knox to their late night errand and made his way toward Todd with the surety and focus of a compass arrow pointing north.

5\. Knox 

Charlie’s Welton sweatshirt was small on him, tight across the shoulders and too short in the sleeves, but it smelled like Charlie, so Knox didn’t ever plan on taking it off.

“You look like a Hulked out toddler,” Charlie said, smirking, poking Knox between the shoulder blades. 

“You look like a normal toddler,” Knox retorted, gesturing at the way his sweatshirt was engulfing Charlie, which made Charlie laugh. Knox couldn’t help but to preen. Charlie was the funny one, the king of humor and good cheer. Making Charlie laugh always felt like a victory. 

_ Jesus Christ, Knox,  _ Chris Noel’s gentle voice echoed through his head.  _ How did you not realize you were in love with this boy for so long?  _ Knox wondered the same thing. He hadn’t realized he even liked boys at all until Chris had asked how long he’d been dating Charlie while they’d waited for Neil and Ginny to finish their play rehearsal. He’d had a real Cher-from-Clueless moment, and Chris had been exceptionally kind as he took a speed run through realizing he was at least a little bit gay and trying to figure out how long he’d been in love with his best friend. 

He hadn’t managed to tell Charlie, yet. He hadn’t even managed to come out to him. 

“Hey, Charlie, I want to tell you--”

“I need to talk to you about something,” Charlie said at almost the same time. They both laughed, and then there was a long, awkward pause. “Maybe we should wait until after we’ve got the milkshakes?” 

The walk home felt colder than the walk to the McDonalds, which Knox thought was either because of the milkshakes or because of the illogical anxiety building in his gut. It wasn’t that he was afraid that Charlie would react negatively to his coming out; all of their friends, besides Cameron, were gay, and he himeslf was the queerest person Knox had ever met. So what was he afraid of? Charlie knowing he wasn’t straight and still not liking him back? That was something he’d just have to live with. 

“You first, Knoxious,” Charlie prompted as they walked back, sipping his shake so fast Knox worried he’d get brain freeze. “I can hear you overthinking it. Just say whatever it is you wanted to say.” 

“I’m not straight,” Knox blurted without thinking, which was how he best did anything. “Like I’m not gay gay, I think, maybe I’m bi or something? I don’t know. But I definitely like men.” Charlie didn’t respond for a moment, and Knox glanced over at him, only to find that Charlie had stopped somewhere behind him on the sidewalk and was doing...some sort of wiggly dance? “Dalton, you okay?” 

“Do you believe in signs?” Charlie asked, smiling wickedly as Knox walked back towards him. 

“Like stop signs?” Knox wasn’t sure what this had to do with him coming out. 

“No. Like...signs from heaven or the universe or whatever. Like, that you should do something?” 

“Do something?” Knox was really confused. Charlie rolled his eyes. 

“Like tell someone how you feel.” 

“Uh--” Oh.  _ Oh. Oh shit.  _ Knox could feel himself going pink, could feel the smile stretching across his face. “Yes.” He answered, nearly tripping over his words in his enthusiasm. “Yes, absolutely.” 

“Even if they’re a romantic type? And would probably want, like, flowers and rose petals and a candle lit dinner and shit?”

“Fuck that,” Knox said, feeling somewhat breathless. “If they’re really a romantic, they’d want to know right away.” Charlie smiled wickedly. 

“Good to know.” He took another sip of his milkshake, letting the anticipation build. And then, finally, with a hint more vulnerability than Knox assumed he’d meant to show, blurted: “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Knox replied, easy as breathing. Charlie smiled again, smaller and more real this time, and then he was reaching for Knox, his hand not holding his milkshake bunching in the front of his own Welton sweatshirt on Knox’s chest, and pulling him into a kiss. Knox kissed back, trying to memorize every detail of the night: the feeling of Charlie’s lips on his, the milkshake melting in his other hand, the too tight pull of the sweatshirt, the singing in his veins. 

And then Charlie had let go and started walking again, that bastard. 

“Charlie!” Knox shouted indignantly. “The fuck?” 

“Hurry up, Knoxious!” Charlie called over his shoulder. “We gotta get home! I wanna make out, but first we gotta go draw on Cameron’s face while he’s still asleep!” Knox laughed loudly and hurried after him, full of anticipation and happiness, and utterly in love with his best friend. 

6\. Meeks

Meeks was no stranger to insomnia, but staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars he and Pitts had stuck on his ceiling ages ago, he was struck with an unprecedented restlessness.

“Do you think tonight is the night?” Pitts had asked in the bathroom an hour before, as they brushed their teeth side-by-side, somewhere in the middle of their cozy bedtime routine. It was such a bold yet gentle question, much like Pitts himself, and Meeks hadn’t known how to answer, spitting his toothpaste into the sink to buy himself a second to think. 

“If you have to ask, it probably means it isn’t, right?” He’d answered, reasonable as possible. In all honesty, he had been wondering the same thing himself, had felt something special and tingly around them all night, but he was also a man of logic and science, not emotion. Besides, they’d both had a couple of beers, and class in the morning. 

“Right,” Pitts had replied, easily, and that had been that. They finished getting ready for bed, bade each other goodnight, and disappeared into their separate bedrooms. Meeks had been lying on his back in the dark ever since, hand pressed against the wall that separated their rooms, regretting his answer, unable to recall the impulse why he’d said what he’d said. 

No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why. The space camp he and Pitts had gone to for all those summers had been a nerdy-kid paradise, but they’d had normal camp stuff too: an annual talent show and bi-weekly games of capture the flag, and a pool with a diving board that he’d failed to jump off a million times. He remembered standing at the edge, staring down into the water, wanting to jump but unable to shake the thoughts of everything that could go wrong. Being in love was like standing on the same sort of precipice. 

He grimaced as he glanced over at his bedroom clock and saw the time. He’d been moping for too long. He needed to talk to the person he always talked to when he couldn’t sleep, the one who had held his hand and finally convinced him to be brave enough to jump off that infamous diving board: he needed Pitts. 

It would have been different, he thought, if they’d still shared a room, the way they did at space camp and their two years in the dorms. They had just assumed, when Neil and Charlie and Knox and Cameron had asked them if they wanted to move into a house together, that they’d still be sharing. But when they arrived, and found that everyone had a room of their own, neither of them had done anything about it. Months ago, when Todd was set to move in, they’d offered to move back in together and give Todd his own space. But Neil had already decided that Todd was going to move up into the attic with him and sleep on the foldout bed up there. So Meeks and Pitts remained adjacent but alone, and Meeks couldn’t just turn over and take his words back. 

Luckily, when they’d moved into the house, they’d learned Morse code, so they could tap out messages to each other on the wall connecting their rooms. They didn’t use it often, usually because the knocking drove Cameron crazy, but it was good for all the times Meeks didn’t want to text, didn’t want to have a physical record of his neediness if Pitts happened to be asleep. 

‘Awake?’ He tapped. The reply was instant. 

‘Yes.’ He was moving before he could even think, shoving his glasses onto his face, his feet carrying him to his door, and then out into the hallway, stopping only when he ran straight into something large and solid. Big hands held him upright, one on his arm and the other on his waist, and a lovely, familiar voice murmured: “you okay?” Meeks looked up at his best friend. The hallway was dark, but Meeks didn’t need to see him clearly to know that he must look bed-headed and beautiful. 

“Gerard,” he whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion, and love, and longing. “Ger--” 

“Steven.” Pitts’ voice was hushed and confused and reverential, and Meeks couldn’t stop himself. He leaned up onto his tiptoes, reaching for Pitts’ face and pulling him down into a kiss. For a moment, Pitts went still as a statue, cheekbones sharp and defined under Meeks’ thumbs. 

And then he kissed back, pulling Meeks closer and ducking his head down so Meeks could have better access to his lips. The warmth of their embrace was overwhelming, and Meeks nestled further into it, wanting to become one with his best friend. 

His best friend. Who he was kissing. He was kissing his best friend. He was kissing Gerard Pitts, the boy he’d loved since he was twelve and wanted like this for years. The man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. His soulmate, if there was such a thing. 

Gerard pulled away first to blink back tears. 

“What’s wrong?” Pitts shook his head. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, voice thick with years of emotion. 

“And? Was it alright?” Meeks was kidding, but only kind of. Pitts laughed breathlessly. 

“I dunno,” he said. “Maybe we should try it again?” 

And again, and again, and again, until death do us part, Meeks thought. But he didn’t try to speak, especially not to say something so dramatic. Instead, he grabbed Gerard’s hand and pulled him along into his bedroom.

7\. Todd 

Todd was an idiot. He’d already known this to be true, but he hated it every time he proved it all over again. 

Up in the attic bedroom he and Neil shared (Neil called it the aerie, he called it the nest) it was obvious to him that Neil hadn’t been judging him, downstairs, for crying at a children’s movie. If anything, he’d been concerned, wanting to reassure him. But back down there, of course, Todd had freaked out at the concept of showing an ounce of vulnerability, and he’d run away. He was still in the process of figuring out how to accept that other people--people he liked and respected and maybe even loved--could like him and want to take care of him, with no ulterior motive. 

In the meantime, he was doomed to repeat his cycle of impulse reactions and regret. Luckily (or terribly, depending on how one looked at it) he’d been through it with Neil enough times that he knew Neil would understand. He sat down on his futon, pulled out his book, and waited for the other boy to come upstairs. 

“ _ And at last I see the light _ ,” Neil’s melodic voice floated up the stairs in front of him. Todd put his book down, and the corners of his lips twitched up. “ _ And it’s like the fog has lifted _ .” Todd wondered if Neil had any idea how much that song reminded him of the period of his life after he’d met Neil and started to befriend the other Poets. How everything had been clouded in an anxiety producing, miserable haze, and Neil’s warm smile and doe eyes had started to clear it all away. 

He wondered if Neil had any idea--any idea whatsoever--how much the other boy meant to him. 

“Hi,” Neil said, bouncing onto the mattress like a kid on Christmas morning. He was careful, as always, to get close enough that they could be considered to be “cuddling” but not directly on top of him; unlike Neil and Charlie, Todd hadn’t grown up “rough-housing.” 

“Hi,” Todd echoes, his smiling stretching across the rest of his face as he tucked himself close to Neil’s side. Neil smiled back, opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to trip over something mentally; Todd could practically see the storm clouds gathering above Neil’s head. “A-are you okay?” 

“I think that’s my line,” Neil teased softly. “Was it the movie making you cry?” Todd shrugged. 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.” 

Something soft and beautiful blossomed across Neil’s face, like a rain shower in spring or sunlight in December. 

“I love you,” Neil said plainly. Before the Poets, Todd had only exchanged “I love you”s with his parents, maybe a handful of times. Now, with his friends, he said it at least once a day. Still , even though he and Neil said it to each other all of the time, it still made Todd’s heart skip a beat every time he heard it. 

“I love you too,” he whispered. Neil swallowed, and Todd tracked the movement. Then, suddenly, Neil was moving, slinging a leg over Todd’s and sitting practically in his lap. His hand came to rest gently on Todd’s cheek, a stark contrast to the frantic look on his face. 

“Tell me I’m not imagining this,” he begged, desperate. “Todd, please. We don’t have to do anything--but I need to know--I--” To reply to Neil’s unasked question properly, Todd would need a pen, paper, and many, many hours. Luckily, there was a way for him to reply without having to speak. 

He pushed himself up and pressed his lips to Neil’s, chaste and careful. Neil reciprocated instantly, deepening the kiss and collapsing on top of Todd completely. 

As a kid, Todd used to hide in the walk-in closet in his parents’ bedroom (he was aware of the irony). It was dark and there, and cozy; it smelled like fabric softener and oranges; and best of all, no one ever came looking for him there. It was an anxious child’s paradise, and it had been the thing from home he missed the most at Balincrest boarding school, where he’d gone to high school. (And, yes, he did know how sad that sounded.) 

At Balincrest, and then again in his freshman year at college, he’d lived with roommates he’d hated and had nowhere to hide. It was the reason he’d spent so much time in Keating’s office, the reason Keating had, eventually, introduced him to Neil. 

Living with the Poets, he almost never felt like he wanted to hide anymore. And, tucked into bed, with Neil’s weight comfortably settling on top of him, he felt safer and more at home than he ever had in his life. 

Neil’s hands were running through his hair. He kissed like he did everything else: with raw talent and sheer enthusiasm. Todd felt like he was drowning, a bit, in the nicest way possible. When Neil finally pulled back, it felt like hours and hours had passed, lost in eachother. He didn’t go far, hovering over Todd like he was afraid he’d fade away. 

“Is this real?” He asked dreamily. 

“I hope so,” Todd replied, as brazenly as possible. “I’ve waited long enough, Perry.” Neil laughed loudly. 

“Oh, how can I ever make it up to you?” Neil joked, dropping a quick peck onto Todd’s lips. Todd pretended to think, just for a moment, and then rolled Neil over in one quick move. 

“I can think of a few ways,” he murmured, watching Neil melt beneath him. He leaned down again, his heart and head and everything in between filled with nothing but  _ Neil, Neil, Neil.  _

+1. Cameron

When Cameron woke up in the morning, he found himself still in the living room easy chair, with quite a crick in his neck. He sat up, groaning softly, and made his way to the kitchen, where he could smell coffee brewing and something baking, and could hear soft voices talking. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you assholes wake me up?” He started complaining as he wandered into the kitchen, jerking back in shock when he saw who was in the kitchen--and, more importantly, what they were doing. Meeks was cooking pancakes on the stove, with Pitts pressed flush against his back, arms around Meeks’ waist and chin resting on Meeks’ shoulder; he was likely (hopefully!) coaching Meeks through the pancake making process. “Holy shit, did you two finally fuck?”

“Good morning to you too, Cameron,” Pitts said calmly. “There’s coffee in the pot.” He pressed a kiss to a spot under Meeks’ jaw before turning to look at Cameron. When he finally did, his eyes widened comically large and a laugh burst out. 

“What?” Cameron demanded, as Meeks twisted in Pitts’ grip to look at him, and then burst into laughter. “What!?” Meeks handed the spatula to Pitts, wordlessly, biting his lip to suppress more laughter; then pulled out his phone, opening his camera app and passing it over to Cameron. He leaned back into Pitts’ side, and Cameron would tease him more for the increase in PDA if he hadn’t caught his reflection on the screen and seen (albeit backwards) the word “DICK” scrawled across his forehead in black marker. 

“I mean, it’s not  _ not _ accurate,” Pitts wheezed, flipping a pancake as Meeks started giggling again. 

“CHARLIE!” Cameron roared, tossing Meeks’ phone down onto the kitchen counter and storming up the stairs. “CHARLIE!” 

“You called?” Charlie asked, batting his eyes as he peeked out of...Knox’s room? The fuck?

“The fuck?” A sleepy voice asked from behind him. Cameron turned to see Neil and Todd, holding hands, descending the stairs from their attic bedroom. Todd was clearly wearing a pair of Neil’s sweatpants, and Neil was trying to button up a flannel over his bare chest with his free hand. Neil took one look at Cameron and laughed, turning to bury his face in Todd’s chest. Todd, bless him, looked mildly sympathetic, though mostly he seemed distracted by Neil’s display of affection. 

“Holy shit!” Charlie called. “Knoxious, babe, I think Neil and Todd finally went to pound town!” 

“ _ Babe _ ?” Meeks’ voice echoed behind Cameron as Knox joined Charlie in the doorway, shirtless. 

“Yeah?” Pitts responded innocently from next to Meeks. 

“Fuck, you guys too?” Knox demanded, weaseling under Charlie’s arm and cuddling close. “That’s three-for-three in one night!” 

“Can we focus on my FUCKING FOREHEAD?” Cameron demanded. Everyone went silent for a moment, then burst into laughter, with Knox leaning forward to reassuringly tell him: 

“Don’t worry, Cameron, I wouldn’t let him use a permanent marker.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. 

“Lemme go grab you my good face soap,” Neil offered, letting go of Todd’s hand and starting back up the stairs. “It’s the stuff Ginny gave me to help take stage makeup off.” 

“I gotta go call Chris!” Knox shouted, as if he’d just remembered, ducking back inside his room. He immediately started talking, loudly but incomprehensibly fast on the other side of the door. Charlie smiled smugly.

“That’s my man,” he said. “What a catch.” He saluted them all, then disappeared back into Knox’s room, closing the door behind him and yelling something for Knox to tell Chris. 

“Is something burning?” Todd finally spoke, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“Oh, shit!” Cameron turned to look as Meeks and Pitts ran back down the stairs to try and salvage breakfast, leaving only him and Todd in the hallway. Todd looked at him, assessing. 

“It’ll come off,” he promised, voice soft. “The boys at Balincrest used to do shit like this all the time to their friends. It was like a badge of honor.” Cameron rolled his eyes, but he hoped Todd knew how much he appreciated his attempt at comforting him. He patted Todd’s shoulder awkwardly, relieved to hear Neil come stumbling back down the stairs. 

Cameron mumbled a thank you as he took Neil’s face soap and slid into the bathroom, but then Neil and Todd were following, closing the door behind them. 

“I can deal with this myself,” he said, awkwardly, gesturing to his forehead with the soap. 

“We know you can,” Neil said. “We’re here to help you figure out how to get Charlie back.” The corner of Cameron’s mouth twitched upwards.

“You’re the two least terrible people here,” he said. Todd and Neil smiled at him sweetly. 

“We love you too, Rich,” Todd murmured. 

Half an hour later, Richard--forehead rubbed red and raw, but no longer graffitied--found himself at the kitchen table, eating from the far less burned ‘Pitts’ pile of pancakes. Only Pitts himself was trying to eat from Meeks’ stack, which Richard thought was as much of a sign of love as anything. 

The other boys were all at the table too, sharing their getting-together stories from the night before in the loud, bouncy conversational style they all excelled at. Richard looked around the table, cataloging the signs of joy on all of his friends’ faces, and finding himself really, genuinely happy for all of them, even Charlie. 

Though he’d be damned if he ever went along with a “movie night” ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at <https://sunshine394.tumblr.com/>!


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